


Loud and Clear

by Sylvano



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bleeding Effect, Flattering, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvano/pseuds/Sylvano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is tired. Shaun's eyes hurt, Rebecca sleeps on the sofa on each and every break... And Desmond? Oh, the usual. He deals with the Bleeding Effect, he collapses periodically, and... well a day's never complete without a bit of fun, is it?</p>
<p>(Bleeding Effect/Dream for EzioLeo)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loud and Clear

**Author's Note:**

> I posted it in 3 parts on dA, but I thought I'd do it all in one part on here

“Who’s there?”

“Get your hands off my eyes, Desmond; I’ve got work to do.”

“But you ALWAYS have work to do!”

“Well, it isn’t my fault if we are fighting Templars, Desmond. Now, if you could PLEASE…”

“All right, all right…”

Desmond got his hands back and leaned on the table right by Shaun, with a beaten-up puppy look on his face. The Brit threw a look at him, just fast enough to see imaginary pulled-back ears appear on top of the other’s head, before he got his eyes back on the screen. He looked at where he was at and resumed typing away. He kept on for a few minutes, until he realized that the American had not moved from his perch beside the computer. Still writing on the computer, Shaun asked, trying to get the man to move:

“Shouldn’t you be training?”

“Done…”

“Then go eat and take a shower.”

“Both done…”

“Go sleep, then.”

“I can’t…”

The Historian stopped typing and turned on his chair to face his interlocutor, an eyebrow lifted in question:

“What do you mean, you ‘can’t’?”

“Bleeding effect…”

Shaun’s expression softened at these words. For having seen the young man go through more than one crisis of such, he was well aware that it could be quite the pain for the poor Assassin sometimes.

“It’s back?”

Desmond nodded, still wearing his puppy face.

“All I see when I close my eyes are the rooftops of Venice and the streets of Masyaf.”

The Brit looked at the man in front of him with concerned eyes for a few seconds before he let out a deep sigh.

“Wait a second.”

He faced the screen he had been working on again and clicked the mouse and keys a few times before he pressed on the power button of the screen, closing it. He then stretched his arms out in front of him and let out a tired yawn. He turned his seat to the side and waved the American to come closer.

“Come on.”

All he got as an answer to his actions was an unsure look as the trainee stared intently and fixedly at him, not moving a muscle. A bit annoyed by the reaction, he reiterated his proposition:

“Come here.”

This time, Desmond frowned deeply and made a slow approach toward the Brit, so slowly that, couldn’t the Historian help thinking, a snail would have been faster. When he was in front of the chair, he stopped and looked at Shaun once again. The latter waited an instant for his fellow to move again, but he rapidly understood that the American was at a loss, both because of the Bleeding Effect and the lack of sleep, meaning that it was up to the Historian to take the lead.

He got up slowly, pushing the chair back. He ended up standing in front of the other and instant, before he grabbed the young assassin’s hand and gently dragged him closer. Once they were close enough for his liking, he kissed the fingers and landed a glance on the other’s face, deciphering both need and hope in there. He let an amused smile curve his mouth’s corners upward, as he leaned in even closer until his lips met the other’s dry and scarred ones.

The American immediately answered to the kiss, making it clear that it had been exactly what he wanted. He wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders, as if he was trying to imprison him. The Brit always felt a bit like Desmond was trying to anchor himself in reality whenever he’d do that. Nevertheless, the Historian always answered back by placing his palms on his fellow’s ass and dragging the man close enough for their chests to touch, exactly as he was doing now.

He thrust his tongue into the American’s mouth, getting an immediate recoil from the other side. They battled for a moment until Desmond moved away to catch his breath, panting heavily. The Historian used that time to kiss the trainee’s nose, before he chuckled and said:

“You should go sleep.”

Desmond looked intensely at the Brit with pleading eyes. Even though he did not utter a word, the Historian understood his message as clearly as if he’d phrased it. He chuckled and landed a slight peck on the young man’s forehead:

“Alright. But don’t make it a habit.”

He parted from his lover and began heading for the bedrooms. He had walked a few steps when he realized that he was not followed. Thinking that, lacking sleep enough, Desmond had not understood he was going to bed, Shaun turned around, a smile on his face and an ironic comment on his tongue. Both faded away in an instant when he saw Desmond on the floor, sat with his legs folded up. The poor man had his hands pressed on his temples and an expression of tremendous pain upon his face.

Seeing that, the Brit hurried to his side, even sliding on the floor at the end to be by his lover’s side faster. He tried to grab the other’s shoulders, but his hands got shoved off as Des scrambled away from the touch. He had inn his eyes a spark of panic that threatened to consume him entirely.

‘He looks like a trapped animal,’ thought the Historian. And so, he acted upon this thought. He slowly faced the scared beast and showed both his hands to indicate both that he had no weapon, and no intention to fight or attack. He got closer, feeling and seeing Desmond’s eyes following every inches of his movements. He talked with calm, slowly and repetitively.

“Calm down, Des. It’s me, Shaun. Calm down…”

When he got close enough, the Historian reached out a hand and stopped a bit before touching the other’s cheek, staring at the trainee’s eyes, awaiting for a tacit or literal approval. After an instant, the Assassin opened his mouth and whispered:

“Malik… Leo… Shaun.”

He collapsed and started to cry, repeating Shaun’s name endlessly, calling him out silently. The Brit gently moved to the broken man’s side, and wrapped his arms to pull other closer, and put a kiss on top of the American’s head. Her felt hands grab his shirt with tremendous power, as if the animal he was, trying to get back to humanhood, would drown anywhen he would let go. He heard Desmond whisper:

“I don’t get it… I don’t get it…”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to.”

“You’re Shaun, then Leo, then Malik, then Leo again… I am Altaïr, Desmond, Ezio…”

“Shhh… Take your time…”

The Assassin was about to say something else, when he suddenly jumped and put his hands back on his temples, pushing as much as if he was trying to squish a fruit into pulp. He cried out in pain, then fainted. Shaun caught him on the fly and held him, trying to wake him back up, a bit panicked.

“Des? Desmond! Desmond!!!”

***

“Ezio, wake up. Come on, it’s day already.”

The florentine young man felt lips meet his own, and he followed them when they went away to keep contact with them longer. He heard a laugh coming from over him, followed by the same voice:

“Come on, lazy one, I know you’re awake.”

The Assassin chuckled lightly and a smile appeared on his face before he opened his eyes and saw Leonardo over him. The artist only had his pants on, and his air was floating around freely.

“I was asleep until you kissed me.”

“Well, you have to admit that there’s worse things to be waken-up by,” answered the blond Venetian as he sat.

“I have to admit that there’s worse than a bare-chested lover to see as the first thing in the day, yes.”

A half smile extended on Leo’s lips.

“You only think of that, eh?”

“What do you expect? I am Ezio Auditore da Firenze, womanizer and sex machine,” laughed the laying-down man. Then, with a softened voice: “…and the best man’s lover.”

The inventor lifted an eyebrow in doubt.

“I think you’re exaggerating a bit.”

“Think what you want, I will do the same,” answered Ezio.

He tried to sit up using his arms. He managed it, but only at the cost of a grimace.

“Are you alright?” worried the Venetian.

“I’m just a bit sore from the lower back, is all.”

“Did I go too far?”

The Assassin let out a few laugh sounds.

“Don’t worry. If this is the price for yesterday’s pleasure, I’ll gladly pay it.”

At these words, Leonardo’s cheeks reddied a bit and he couldn’t help clearing his throat. That made the Florentine laugh as he leaned in to kiss his lover.

“You’re cute, Leo.”

***

Desmond opened his eyes as he grunted, feeling the beginning of a headache threaten from the back of his head.

“Good, you’re finally awake.”

He turned his head toward the voice and saw Rebecca, sat with her legs over one of the armchair’s arms, an open book resting on her lap. She was looking intensely at the American.

“You can be quite the worry, when you want to. He has been waiting for you to wake up since you fainted,” did she mention while pointing with her chin to the other side of the bed.

Desmond followed the movement and turned his head to the left side. There, he saw Shaun laid down on a couch, his face toward the bed. His hair and clothes were rumpled and he had put his glasses aside. They were placed on the floor on the same side of the improvised bed as the Brit’s face. The Assassin looked back at Rebecca and began asking:

“How long…”

“You slept for a full day and the end of last night.”

The programmer girl closed her book and swapped her legs out of her seat. She got up and started walking towards the door.

“I’ll let you discuss everything with Shaun here,” she yawned. “As for myself, I’ll go sleep. I’ve worked like crazy to do all the duties Shaun left to wait.”

She made a detour to stop by the Brit’s head and poked him with a finger on his unshaved cheek.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Your lover’s awake.”

Desmond blushed at the words. He couldn’t believe Rebecca could say things like that so easily. He himself even sometimes had doubts as to what he and Shaun were for each other. The girl gave him a fast glance and poked the Historian again.

“Come on, he’s blushing in wait.”

“What?” answered the just awakening man.

He reached out to the floor and, after a few awkward tries, grabbed his glasses. Rebecca backed up a step to let him sit, and Shaun put on his glasses when he was in the aforementioned position. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the light and scratched the place where he had been poked. The girl walked out of the room, only stopping a second to shout out playfully:

“Don’t be relieved too loudly!”

It made the situation awkward between the two remaining men. They heard the door shut but ignored it. Shaun was staring at the American, which in turn would look anywhere but toward the couch.

“Desmond?”

“Yes?” jumped the called man.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Uh… yeah, I think. My head’s a bit painful, but if we except that, I feel quite good.”

The Brit got up and transferred to the bed, where he sat by Desmond’s side. The other stiffened, but he stayed where he was. He heard the Historian’s voice near his ear:

“Where is it painful?”

“It kind of comes from the back of the back of my head, but I…”

He stopped talking as he felt fingers land on the base of his hair. Slowly, they began to move in circles, massaging his neck and the back of his head. He unconsciously tilted his head forward to make it easier to access the taken-care-of spots, while a purr of appreciation escaped from his mouth.

“Does it help?”

“I don’t really know… but it feels really good...”

“Great,” smiled the Historian. “You dreamt of one of your ancestors, right?”

The American tried to focus on his dream through the haze well-being that slowly invaded his head under Shaun’s care.

“Yeah… I was Ezio…”

“What were you doing?"

“Just waking up.”

“Really?”

“Kind of… Him and Leonardo had had their first time the last night, so there was some fluff. But that’s mostly all.”

“Hm. I did not know these two had been seriously together at some point.”

“Yeah, me nei-”

Desmond stopped talking as he felt the Brit nibble on his earlobe, while keeping the massage. He heard whispered words echo in his ear as the Historian’s hot breath hitting his skin made him shiver:

“What about we get some fluff of our own?”

The American didn’t answer. Soon, the hands, as they kept pressing and circling, began to slowly move down Desmond’s back, trailing from the neck a way through his shoulder plates and his ribcage. He shivered again as he felt a finger trace his spine’s line, and a moan of pleasure escaped him. He could feel Shaun’s head lying between his shoulders as the hands slithered to the front of his pants, efflorescing it. He gasped at the faint contacts his mate’s skin made with the fabric, arousing him.

“Sh-Shaun… Stop it…”

“No.”

Desmond protested again, but the Brit answered the same as he kept on. After a few more verbal tries, the assaulted Assassin shoved his way out of the Historian’s arms, shouting:

“I SAID ‘STOP’!”

He turned around, facing the red-haired man, who seemed a bit taken aback by the sudden move of his lover. He inquired, a bit of concern in his voice:

“What is it, Des?”

“I want to kiss you…”

Shaun smiled broadly at the words.

“Sure...”

He leaned in and brushed on the other’s lips with his own. Immediately, the American pushed from his side, making the Brit move back until the latter leant on the wall. He had his arms past the Historian’s legs, and was extending his neck to be able to keep the contact. His eyes were meeting Shaun’s as their tongues mingled in a winnerless fight. Desmond brought himself closer, relieving himself from the strain on his neck.

Shaun’s hand moved again towards the Assassin’s waist, making him whimper as they hit home. They moved in pair, unbuttoning the pants and bringing down the zipper, while the Historian’s mouth kept his lover busy. The breaths of both men was accelerating, as they could feel the level of their excitation rising.

Without consulting each other, they started undressing at the same time. Shaun’s shirt got thrown off the bed, soon joined by Desmond’s one on the floor. They then got to pants and underwears, which they removed with awkward movements as they kept their mouths sealed, kissing without a stop with their tongues fighting intensely. Moans and growls escaped from their mouths, pointing out their appreciation of the moment.

Once they were free of all their clothes they shifted, ending up with Shaun hanging over a lying-down Desmond. The Historian brought his nose closer to his peer’s neck and inhaled deeply. He kissed and licked his way down the American’s chest, grazing the skin just enough to make the other arch up slightly in response to the stimuli.

He stopped over his lover’s arousal for a few seconds and got his head up to meet the Assassin’s lusty gaze. He kept their stares locked as he approached and tasted the member. Desmond closed his eyes and let out a load moan, panting slightly. That panting deepened as the Historian surrounded the erection with the wetness of his mouth and started working on it. He slid at a maddening pace, up and down, down and up… It took little time before Desmond felt the edge close.

“Shaun... Shaun...Shaun...”

He kept on repeating his lover’s name until he completely lost control. Then, his breathing slowed a bit as Shaun moved upward and laid a soft kiss on the Assassin’s mouth.

“We should stop there. I don’t want to exhaust you. And after all, we don’t have the necessary material here.”

The American got on an elbow and kissed his lover as he brought the Brit’s hand back on his member, that was erected again.

“I don’t care. Keep on.”

“I don’t...” started to protest the Historian.

“I want you in me.”

“But…”

“NOW.”

“Alright…” gave up the red-haired man with a devilish smile.

He took his glasses off and placed them on the bed table. Then, he turned back around to face Desmond again. The American grabbed his hand once again and brought it this time to his mouth, licking them until they became slippery. Once that state of wetness was reached, the Historian got his hand back from the Assassin and, staring at his lover, inserted one of his fingers one of his fingers in the other man. Desmond twitched and bit his lip, letting out a whispered moan as the Brit started moving, hitting his soft spot. Soon, a second finger joined the first one, and Shaun began making scissoring moves, making the American’s breaths shorten.

“Stop…”whimpered the Assassin after some time.

The Historian obeyed and slid his fingers out with a wide grin. Desmond tried to catch his breath, until he felt the other kiss him and his length pierce him. He gritted his teeth and tears fell down from his eyes down to the mattress under the pain that ran through his body. The Brit didn’t move and murmured:

“I knew this was a bad idea. Let me just-”

“No, keep on.”

Shaun gave the other a doubtful look, pursuing his lip as he hesitated. Then deciding to comply with the American’s will, he thrust once slowly, making his lover moan from a mix of pain and pleasure. Encouraged by that reaction, he kept on and soon, Desmond only felt a tad of soreness from the movements. The bliss it gave was overpowering.

With every thrust, he felt like he was entering a limbo of revel, and moans and whimpers were escaping freely from his mouth. They were echoed by the Brit’s growls in some sort of concert of lust. Their breaths were heavy and fast as the air seemed to flee from them under the effect of the magisterial pleasure that was slowly accumulating. Their fever seemed endless, the time stretching as new heights of blessedness were reached one after the other, until they reached the climax’s cliff. With no hesitation, they jumped this barrier loudly.

Exhausted by their effort, they stayed laid down for few moments. Then, with a groan, Shaun moved upward to lie down on the American’s side and dragged the covers over them. Desmond got closer to the Brit and they cuddled, the Historian hugging his lover tightly. He got his mouth closer to the Assassin’s ear and whispered:

“We’re so up for Rebecca’s kidding tomorrow.”

Desmond chuckled a little and moved even closer.

“Let her be.”

“Yeah...”

They slowly drifted into sleep in each other’s arms, feeling warm from each other’s heat.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sorry


End file.
